


Buried Deep Within

by ConsultingAngelWhoLived



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Dan's POV, Fluff, Friendship, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Loss, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, Songfic, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingAngelWhoLived/pseuds/ConsultingAngelWhoLived
Summary: I vowed then to never let another person into my heart. I couldn't face that pain again, even if it seriously limited my future. I wouldn't put myself through it. No matter what happened, I was going to keep my guards up, and no one on this despicable planet was going to break those down.Until you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Skin" by Sixx: A.M.  
> I own no rights to this song. No copyright infringement intended. Used purely for entertainment purposes.
> 
> A short music video with the song that each chapter is based on will be uploaded to my YouTube channel:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/user/consultingangelwholived 
> 
> Chapter One - You Found Me:  
> https://youtu.be/qKSfw5dBGlU
> 
> I do not own rights to "You Found Me" by The Fray.

_Lost and insecure…_

I clutch my reliable pile of books – English, Chem, Law - tightly to my chest as I trundle though the hallways; my head hanging low. In my palm my fingers were clasped firmly around a small, leather bound book. So small it could fit into my hand yet so beautiful for something of its size. Gold swirls delicately lined the edges of the spine of the cover, creating almost magical patterns in the dark- cocoa shade bounding. Bringing light to the darkness - something I was considerably lacking right now. It was my one remaining source of comfort. Having something from the past kept by my side at all times grounded me in this ailing, bitter world I was currently living in.

I remember a time when I used to wear pretty pastel shades, my usual candyfloss cardigan wrapped comfortably around me. After it happened I felt myself steadily withdraw into myself as I shut out the world. It was as though I had shrivelled into a mere shell of that cheeky young boy with the bright smile and the joyous, wide-lipped laugh. I remember being able to stare up at my father with a rosy-cheeked grin as he returned home from work every day, at peace with the world. That had all gone now.

Now I wear black. Black – a colour traditionally associated with death and mourning. I guess in a way I was grieving for my past self, and mourning that form of me that had long since been dead. Today, I wore a fairly tight-fitting black V-neck T-shirt and matching black jeans. My hair fell floppily down my forehead in annoying curls into my eyes, so that I often had to balance the weight of my items in one hand whilst raising my other to brush the golden brown hair out of my eyes. My wrist was decorated with various different coloured wristbands, both cheap rubber and silken-wound cloth. They were the one remaining dash of colour in my outfit, but come on, if there was a Pikachu wristband up for sale, do you really expect me not to buy and wear it? Large black circular earrings were secured to my ears and I was wearing just a hint of black eyeliner to try and make myself feel a little bit better about my appearance. Not that it would help in any way…

A not-so-subtle sniggering from my right brought me swiftly out of my musings. Ah. Every time. Why is it that whenever you seek to avoid a person, it seems they are the only person you can seem to come across? Or is that just me? I’m pretty sure the universe has it in for me as it is…

Gemma Scott was standing there, giggling selfishly with her bitchy group of friends, who were as usual surrounding her like a swarm of irritating bees worshipping their beloved queen bee. Gemma was leant back with her shoulder blades pressed to the locker, upper body thrown forward, as she seem to be too busy deciding whether to be laughing at me or making heart eyes at the popular don't-know-the-answer-to-one-plus-one-but-will-date-you-if-you’re-hot boys who were loitering in a cluster just a little way down the hall.

Something about me seems to consistently draw the attention of bullies and their hateful comments. Was it my geekiness? Yes, I’m driven and determined when it comes to I have to school, I need to succeed in my studies - it’s all they would have wan… Well, I didn’t want to think about that. I suppose I’m a little different, in some ways. I don’t try to fit in with the crowd; my looks probably enhanced that fact and didn’t help with the situation.

As I started to round the corner I felt a violent force barge its way into my left shoulder, making me lose my relatively loose grip on my books. I was sent stumbling backwards as I clumsily tripped over my own feet, making to regain my footing just in time so that I didn’t end up on the floor. I looked up to see the confidently retreating form of Ryan Morgan, his mates’ shoulders shaking as they half-heartedly tried in vain to retain their unattractive snorts and sniggers. Less subtly I heard tittering and giggling coming from behind me, Spinning around I found the source of the noise to be Gemma and her friends. Is there no end to their amusement at me?

Ryan and I used to know each other, believe it or not, and we always hung out together and shared our passion for gaming. Over time he grew to be like an elder brother to me, and I would have trusted him with anything. That was, until he fell into the trap of ‘getting in with the popular crowd’, and decided to leave me for them. I like to think to myself that I would have gotten over it, had it not been for his utter betrayal. He was the only person I trusted. The only one who would listen. The only one I confessed to about my crush on Gemma Scott. He was also the first person to spread this juicy piece of gossip around, which I’m sure you can see had brilliant effects on my barely-existent social reputation and rendered me a lonely freak.

I’d been subjected to countless numbers of beatings and verbal abuse from what seemed like the entire male population of the school, both physically and emotionally. It had all left a kind of scar in my heart, one that is not so easily discarded and ignored. I felt it as a sort of black shroud lingering over me wherever I went, an uncomfortable warmth around my heart that was both at once dragging me down and giving me that bittersweet attention that I wasn’t getting anywhere else. I felt emotionally and physically exhausted every single blasted day, and sometimes I just could not be bothered to do anything more than sit and play video games. I always had to be occupied though. I could never trust myself to be alone with my own mind. I would go insane with all my self-hatred. What people constantly impress upon you, you can’t help but eventually believe.

“You’re a filthy faggot, Howell.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Waste of space.”  
“Drink bleach and be done with it.”  
“Kill yourself.”

Truth be told I wouldn’t be lying if I said I had been seriously considering this at one point.

As I walked down the corridor attempting to keep my head held high I encountered plenty more glances, whispers and stares. But I guess I was used to it by now. I’d grown immune to all the exclusion and hurtfulness of the human race. I’d built a wall so tall and wide that I thought no one could ever manage to break down. I’m not going to pretend that my defences meant that it never affected me, because that would possibly be the biggest lie I’ve ever told. But I was okay. I could make it through.

I thought.

  
_You found me…_

I sometimes wonder what my life would have come to if you had never been in it. As soon as that thought pops into my head I always have to quickly dismiss it, for fear of going to a dark place in my imagination. If I’m honest, I know what would have happened. And I really don’t want to think about that.

It started with a random decision. Just a split second of thought. Funny how a single thought can change your life. The decision to buy a laptop was probably one of the greatest decisions of my life. Sounds stupid, I know, but sometimes the most ridiculous things have drastic importance on our lives. I know this because that purchase made me discover the wonders of the Internet. And that discovery led me to a wonderful place called YouTube. And then…

YouTube led me to you.

A single image.

Just one click. That was all it took.

You were so relatable. Your passion and joy shone through in everything you said so eagerly to the camera. I immediately had to subscribe. But I wondered how on Earth someone could ever have the courage to put themselves out to the world like this. The exposure would frankly frighten me to death. So many followers. You'd been making videos since 2006, but that number was simply incomprehensible. Just…how?

You seemed so awkward and dorky, and yet you already had so much more confidence than I ever would.

You made me smile with your random bursts of happiness, inspiration and creativity, and laugh at your awkward silences when you are desperately trying to keep the topic flowing. If I was ever going through a tough time, just a couple of minutes into your videos and I’d be alright again. You already made me a better person and I hadn’t even met you yet. Not that that would ever happen, right?

It was months before I even began to consider thought of trying to contact you. Even then it was just hopeless fantasies about how you would be relatively excited to put a face to the name of your subscriber. But that was far from the reality of it. You wouldn’t have a clue who I was, let alone want to be friends with someone like me.

So when you tweeted me back, I think that was the happiest I had ever felt for years. I actually felt wanted and accepted. Silly, I know, we hadn’t even spoken properly yet. But somehow that follow changed something within me, and I knew deep inside it would be the start of something.

 

_You found me…_

  
I can remember that I was sat by my computer screen for at least 3 hours, trying in vain to distract myself from the imminent panic attack I would surely face as soon as the “calling” announcement appeared. I wasn’t that far from having one now if I was being honest with myself. I tried to reassure myself that we had shared interests, and that you seemed like one of the nicest people I have ever…not really met yet?

My fingers had tapped in a rhythm yet erratically against the outside edge of my left thigh.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap tap tap.

Time seemed to drag on into eternity. I was probably just being melodramatic, but I felt like a princess waiting forlornly for the heroic prince to ride in on his trusty steed to save me. And yet my prince was late.

Impatient and distracted, my eyes wandered to the leather bound book that lay alone, gathering dust on my shelf. It’s silly how an inanimate object could run in such parallels to the way I felt. I hadn’t felt the need to carry it around will me for a fair few months now. I guess you’d been my distraction throughout those days, and I simply had been focused too thoroughly on the possibility of befriending you to worry over a little book.

But it wasn’t just an ordinary book, was it? I remember the intense feeling of guilt overcoming me as I bent over slightly to grasp the book. I shouldn’t have left it neglected to so long.

I toyed with the book in my hands, thoughtfully pondering over how large a meaning it held for me personally. My fingers gently traced along the swirling golden patterns engraved in the leather. As a sort of afterthought, I stroked the spine before spinning round to place the book back down. I vowed to myself that I would take better care of it. I placed a delicate fingertip against the tiny flower design at the base of the spine, as though trying to spiritually connect with that book. The leather had felt smooth against my finger, yet the golden writing had caused necessary dips and ridges that showed it’s imperfections.

And all of a sudden that all so familiar tone of the Skype call sounded loudly; I jumped out of my skin in fright. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been expecting it, but I guess I must have thought deep down that he would back out last minute and leave me here. I suppose I was used to that by then. My mum, my dad, my ‘friends’. Everyone seemed to cancel last minute when it came to activities with me.

I stared, eyes fixed unmovingly on the screen. My left index finger hovered waveringly above the mouse. Oh come on, I couldn't back out now. How could I possibly let this opportunity go? I actually had the chance to talk to the guy I had been smiling and laughing over for months! Stupid, relentless insecurities. Why couldn't I just click?

My mind flashed back to my parents. I remembered the pain their loss had caused me. My brain told me that I shouldn't allow this growing friendship to continue. I couldn't chance having my heart broken again; I couldn't chance hurting someone else. After all, that is what happened to everyone I cared for. But my heart was begging me to grasp onto you and hold you tight because you, Phil Lester, had noticed ME of all people! I knew I would get along perfectly with you - we shared the same interests and sense of humour. But was it the right decision for me?

I'd left him hanging too long already. It's was now or never.

I clicked.

Then I saw your fucking adorable grin and regretted my decision immediately, knowing I'd be incapable of escaping you. Even so, an uncertain smile that subconsciously crept into my features.

Little did I know that that one tiny action would be the start of both my downfall and the most fun I'd ever had.

_Lying on the floor…_

  
And then it happened.

After Ryan, I had one friend before you. One friend in the entire world who knew and accepted me for who I was. One friend who stood by me through everything. At first I couldn’t accept that somebody would voluntarily became my project partner, put their arm around me when I was down, or talk to at lunch. They came back to my house many of time, and I went to theirs hundreds. They constantly ate all my food (as most true friends tend to do) but I didn’t really give a damn. I had a friend who cared.

PJ, I will be forever grateful.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t re-live the memory of that call. The memory of what happened after. I can scarcely bear to think about it even now. It haunts me how cheerfully my day started, as though it were any other day.

I can remember groaning as I weakly tried to lift my head from my pillow, straining to read the time on my alarm clock. 10:37. Definitely not a morning person. No surprise there. I gave myself five, ten, twenty more minutes, just a little while longer in bed. After I reluctantly dragged myself out of my warm cavern I recalled with a sudden ray of happiness that PJ was coming round for a visit later. I can remember ranting to him on the Friday of how bored I was going to be all weekend. I remembered with undisguisable amounts of horror how much homework I had to complete for Monday. That’s what happens when you procrastinate your life away watching anime all day. PJ, my God-sent saviour, had agreed to pop in for lunch on the Sunday, so that we could maybe watch a few re runs of Doctor Who before succumbing to the fact that Monday was coming.

PJ had already completed all his homework, organised freak that he is, and had given me a quick ring to let me know he’d be at mine sooner than anticipated. Grinning to myself at the excuse to push away my Biology textbook, I did just that and opened up my laptop to have a quick browse through my tumblr.

I was still in that position twenty minutes later, not thinking to ring to check if everything was okay. PJ wasn’t exactly the most punctual of people. Nor was he born with an award winning memory. I automatically assumed you had forgotten something; anyway it wouldn’t have been the first time. Maybe he’d forgotten that he was meant to come and see me? No. Even his memory wasn’t that bad.

I can remember the exact moment when a feeling of coldness and worry had finished slowly edging in and enveloped me from head to toe. I decided to give it ten more minutes, assuming it was just my ignorant self getting impatient about his lateness.

After a while, I had almost forgotten about PJ’s imminent visit. I had fallen once more into the endless pit of tumblr, and had no intention of coming out of it until absolutely necessary. Silence shrouded me as my mouse shifted with my movements to accommodate for my next click, which happened to be on an aesthetic blog littered with dark, misty landscapes and photographs. I was just about to reblog a post about different coloured roses and their meanings (because why not?) when I gave a start.  
My phone’s exceptionally loud ringtone had blasted through the speaker. It was PJ. Snapping back to the present and out of my tumblr trance, I had suddenly realised where I was and exactly how long I had been there. It had been two hours since PJ called me.

Grabbing my phone and hurriedly pressing a button to answer the call, I exclaimed my annoyance as soon as the line connected.

“Where the hell are you Peej? I’ve been waiting for like, hours. I’m bored out of my mind here! You were meant to be here ages ago.”

A silence had followed. The sound of a throat clearing in an awkward cough had filled the air with tension.

“Dan?” A hoarse voice had echoed through the phone, somehow managing to break on that one syllable.

“Mrs Ligouri? Is everything okay? Do you know where PJ is?” My face had fallen, I was becoming seriously worried that something was the matter. Was PJ ill? Hurt? Had I done something wrong? Was PJ not allowed to see me?

I heard a sniffle on the other end of the phone line. A couple of gasps followed in sequence, desperately trying to gather enough oxygen to muster up the next word.

“Dead.”

Replaying it in my head doesn’t even shock me any more. The shock had faded a long time ago. I’ve long accepted the fact that it was my fault. I did so not long after the call, realising that if I hadn't begged him to come over he never would have been mugged and shot in that alleyway.

I can still remember the way I froze in disbelief.  
I can remember how ripples of tension had flooded their way across my body. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. This could not be happening. Again. My parents. PJ. Who was going to be the next one to desert me? Everyone leaves me at some point. No one sticks around long enough to even glimpse at the pain I so constantly feel.

I vowed then to never let another person in. I’d made the mistake of letting my guard down with PJ. I thought I learnt my lesson after my parents. Obviously not, considering the way I’d selfishly yet calmly pressed the end call button on my phone without even whispering a condolence or a word of comfort, and unfortunately I also remember how I had gravitated slowly towards the cabinet in the bathroom upstairs. I remember the cool, reassuring touch of metal to skin and the disgusting, hateful beads of scarlet blood that dripped from my wrist to the floor. I was well fucking aware that this was in fact, not the logical, intelligent, responsible thing to do. I think most people realise that when they succumb to these measures. I wasn’t stupid. I knew when to stop. Not that I wanted to.

“To get attention.” That one made me sigh every time. More like a pitiful, pathetic scrap of punishment. I had killed him. I was the one who begged and pleaded for him to come over. I was the one who put him in the direction of where the fateful climax of events was set to happen. I was the one that practically pulled that trigger on him. I was the one who had ruined dozens of peoples’ lives. Me. My fault. I should have cut harder.

At the time I knew not what had stopped me from taking that final cut, when I so desperately wanted to just go that little bit deeper or rougher. The only thing I can think of is that somehow, my soul knew deep down that you were play a huge part in my life, and I couldn't let that go. Not yet anyway.

Even so, that isn't what I was mainly thinking about when I was curled up on the stone cold tiles of my bathroom floor, clutching my wrists to my chest in search of a source of comfort. I had lost everyone. Everyone who I truly cared about. They had all been taken from me. And for what purpose? Had I done something to make me undeserving of love? Was I being punished for simply continuing to live out my meaningless existence, and unhelpfully adding to the overpopulation of Earth? What significance could I possibly play? God I was so damaged.

I vowed then to never let another person into my heart. I couldn't face that pain again, even if it seriously limited my future. I wouldn't put myself through it. No matter what happened, I was going to keep my guards up, and no one, not PJ or my parents or anyone else on this despicable planet, was going to break those down.

_Surrounded, surrounded..._

I was startled awake by bright lights exploding in front of my eyelids. Where was I? My head was spinning and I felt kind of faint. What had happened? Why was I here? Where was here? I heard footsteps and the faint metallic screech of something being wheeled towards me. God my head hurt. The noise didn't help. Why was there so much movement around me?

I heard a subdued voice whisper, "he's awake" and faint phrases such as "friend died", "parents too", and "emotional time" drifted past my ears, only half registering in my befuddled mind. Why was my neck aching so much? I strained to adjust but the movement caused a sharp agonising pain to flare up in my lower arm. Oh.

Gradually I opened my eyes, the bright lights of the hospital making this task very difficult. Suddenly I realised how chapped my lips were and how dry my mouth was.  
"Water..." I managed to whisper hoarsely.

A calm, soothing voice filled the room asking for a pitcher of water. I recognised it immediately. Mrs H. She has always been a family friend since many years before I was born. Always offered me a shoulder to cry on, especially after it happened. She took me in and I live in the spare bedroom of her tiny flat a few minutes walk from the school. Speaking of school, she works there, and although she tries not to show any blatant favouritism, she never hesitates to remind me that she will always be there when I need her. One of the best things about being friends with her is that she keeps the key to the school attic which is located above the English rooms at the back of the school, where it's quieter and less stressful. All I have to do is give her a knowing look, quite often made obvious by tears streaking my face, and she would hand me the key. It's a place I go to escape from reality. The floor is thin enough to hear the beautiful stories being read out loud in class, so I often sit in silence listening to those. It sets me free from the harshness of the real world.

But why was she here? It took me a moment but I eventually out two and two together. The pain in my arm. The cuts. Oh God she probably thought I was insane! Or mentally deranged. Or suicidal. I supposed given the current situation she wasn't too far wrong. I never meant to take it this far. I must have collapsed on the tiles of the bathroom floor. That's the last thing I remember.

I grabbed her hand, thinking of the worry I probably put her through. Shit what if she doesn't forgive me? I'd be utterly alone. Almost serves me right though...

She cleared her throat. "You um...you lost a lot of blood. I came home and called out but you weren't answering. I came up to the bathroom to see you passed out on the floor, blood everywhere. Why Dan?" She knew why, and I knew that she didn't expect an answer. She was just a little broken. A tear had rolled down her lightly wrinkled cheek. I would have reached out to brush it away but it wouldn't have done me any good. Plus she probably didn't want to me touching her right now.

I hesitantly pulled away my hand, but she reached out and clutched it once more. I breathed a sigh of relief. As long as I had someone supporting me, I could get through this. But I'd never forget Peej or my parents. I guess it's just something that you've got to learn to cope with.

_Why do you have to wait?_

I was released from hospital a few days later after I started healing. My arms were still bandaged and awfully sore but I was coping. Of course one of the first things I did was Skype you, being extra careful to keep my arms hidden from sight. You seemed so worried that I hadn't made contact in ages, so I had to make up some excuse that I went on an unexpected family trip and didn't have time to contact him. Couldn't have been further from the truth. I'd neglected to mention to him about my certain lack of family, save from Mrs H. But you seemed to buy it and after we just slid back into our normal conversations. I couldn't help but breathe a huge sigh of relief to myself, the stress easing at once at the sound of your voice.

And we grew closer than ever (despite the actual distance). You told me your awkward memories, like that time you asked a girl to teach you how to kiss, your failed dating experiences and your fond memories from university. You told me how you mustered up the courage to get into YouTube. You told me how it felt to receive your first positive review. You even trusted me enough to tell me about potential upcoming projects and videos, without even considering that I had the power leak them to his fans. That kind of trust made me eager to grasp every word you said to me.

So I did. I listened through all of it. Because you captivate me with your imagination and your passion. The way you laugh and how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you try and contain your giggles at a situation. I know it’s cheesy to say, and so regularly overused an expression, but I really believe your smile lights up the room. I can’t help but smile with you. And you smile back at me, even with my far-too-tanned skin and my facial deformations (otherwise known as my dimple). And I feel truly happy for the first time is years.

Because with you I never have to put on a fake smile or be someone that I’m not. You accept me for who I am and I don’t have to pretend anymore. No one has ever done what you do for me, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I still feel the hateful, chilling warmth creep up on me sometimes when I’m unsuspecting. I don’t think anything will ever change that. But you make it better somehow. Just your presence in my life has made me a million times happier.

But it still wasn't enough, I didn't know how to broach the topic of meeting up. I kept dwelling on whether or not it was the right thing to do. Would it be awkward? Would you find me too weird? Would it be everything I hoped it would be, or just a disappointment? So many thoughts rushed through my head every time my mind brought up the subject. What would you say? Would you even want to meet up with me? What if you gave me a flat-out no? How would I possibly cope then?

Breathe Dan, breathe...

I resolved to talk about to you about it in a few weeks. Not just yet. I still needed to give my arms time to heal. Time would heal me. You could heal me. You are healing me, just by being my friend. Just by being in my life. I could deal with this in the time being. A relationship with you through a computer screen. It may not be everything I ever dreamed of, but it was enough. For now.

_Where were you, where were you?_

The funeral was on a Wednesday. Bad enough day as it is. Sure Peej would have thought the same. But he was gone. Talking to you had eased the pain a little. I had to try so hard it to let any cracks show through my prefect frame of a facade. But today really was bringing out the worst in me. After all, it was my best friend's funeral. It felt like only minutes had passed since I heard the news. That phone call. The one that started it all.

I sighed, staring morosely at the ground. Why me? I felt empty, alone, betrayed without knowing who by. I had long ago accepted that I was always going to see what happened as my fault. I begged him to come over. It was at my urging that he followed this instruction. It was my pressure on him that caused him to walk hastily to my housemate take the shortcut and put himself directly in the firing line. Me. My fault. No one else could possibly say anything to convince me otherwise.

As family members and friends paid their respects, glistening tears streaking their faces, I felt my own body begin to shake with involuntary spasms. I was starting to sob. I almost felt bad - it wasn't right for my to react stronger than his family members.

I guess the black I constantly wore finally had a relevance. I was once again in mourning. Not that I ever really came out of it in the first place. I found comfort in the blackness, found surety that I was allowed to be different and imperfect, even if I was constantly shadowed by death. The black served as a reminder to me to never forget them, and never forget the vows I made to myself. To not let anyone break down my walls. I couldn't let that happen. Not even you Phil.

I struggled through the day, being asked by Peej's mother to give a few words. No surprise there that I broke down before I could even muster up a sentence. Thankfully they took as that as words enough. Sometimes words unspoken were the most powerful of all.

So all in all I should've been able to get through the day. I had the constant support of Peej's parents and family, of whom I myself really should have, been comforting. Guess they always were like Peej. Putting others before yourself. So why did I feel so much worse that evening? Because you didn't call. The one thing that was getting me through the day. And too right I was angry. Yes, to be fair I hadn't told you what had happened today because then you'd start asking questions about how I was, and how I coped - I really don't want to have to explain that to you.

I spent the entire night shut inside my bedroom waiting for a call. That never came. From you. The one person I thought I could always rely on. But I told myself that I was perhaps just being dramatic, that everyone has things that come up and perhaps this was one of these days. How were you supposed to know it was one of the most emotional days of my life? So I just left it.

But you didn't ring back. Every night I would sit, waiting patiently by my laptop, wishing you would call. But you never did.

Had I done something wrong? Said something out of line? Made you hate me? I couldn't recall any moment in our long chats where we'd bickered about something other that which versions of games were better. Or maybe you'd just gotten bored of me. Most people do at some point. I'm not the most interesting person. But you had seemed so understanding about everything, you were patient with me, listened to me. In such a short space of time I could not deny that you'd become such an important part of me life. Maybe it was just a couple of days. Maybe you'd reply then, right?

Thursday. No call.

Friday. No call.

Saturday. Still no call.

Monday  
Tuesday.  
Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

The days flew past. I gave up after a week. I just wanted to know why? Was that too much to ask? You seemed like you would never pull something like this. It just wasn't you. Still, after a week it was far too long a time for the petty excuses to keep pouring out. I had to let you go. Or it would torture me inside.

But you were the one person keeping me sane! How could I even possibly let you go when you were everything that helped me to be...me? Goddamnit....

I swore that I wouldn't let anyone else in. But you had pushed past those barriers and you had your claws dug so deeply into me. Who could escape from that? How could I escape for you? I knew you weren't evil. But I had to move on. Whatever the reason was, you didn't want me anymore. It's not that hard to comprehend. Most people go through that too. Ryan. Peej. My parents. They all decided they didn't want me anymore.

So why should you be any different?

I slipped back into my ordinary routine. Aimlessly strolling through the corridors. Not paying much attention in any classes. Trying to divert you from my mind. It was proving to be a far more difficult task than I had originally thought.

Why couldn't I get over you?

_Just a little late..._

I sat, once again alone by myself in the school attic, trying to to think. Mrs H was away for the week, on a school trip to Hong Kong. I'd fiercely convinced her that I'd be fine, that I had a few friends to turn to if I was lonely. I said that I'd Skype Phil every day so that I had someone to talk to. Little did she know that we weren't talking anymore.

Everything was swimming inside my head. So many thoughts and way to many feelings. My parents. Peej. You. My insecurities, my hatred of everything, I couldn't cope anymore. This world seemed to have such a curse against me so that everything I touched disappeared from existence as though fearful of me and disgusted by my presence. No one would ever love me. No one would ever stick by me. No one would ever understand.

I reached down into my satchel, where at the bottom I had stashed a blade. I stared at it fearfully for a few seconds before delicately picking it up. Such a small object but with so much power of me. I felt the tiny weight of it pressing against my palm, but the weight of my troubles and self-loathing were far heavier.

I took up the blade into my fingers, twirling it around. Would anyone even care if I was gone? There was barely any point to my existence. Yeah, Mrs H would be devastated, but it wouldn't last forever. She would move on just like everyone else.

Without hesitation I pressed the blade to my skin, over the fading scars from my previous session. I tried to press down and cut...

Why couldn't I?

What was stopping me? I had everything I needed to do it. I'd come to the, conclusion that the world would be better off without my existence. I pressed down harder, but not hard enough to leaves mark.

"No one cares about you!" I screeched, face mad with fear, my face drenched with tears. My face scrunched up with concentration but I let the blade slip through my fingers. The clatter echoed on the wooden floorboards. What was stopping me?

It took five minutes of silent tears before I realised.

Phil.

_You found me…_

A week later I was lying in my bed, blankets tucked around me, playing Crash Bandicoot when I heard a sound I never expected to hear again. My head shot round so fast I almost got whiplash. My laptop screen had lit up and the sound of a lion roaring echoed from the speakers.

Phil.

I threw off the layers as quickly as humanly possible and jumped up before making a lunge for my laptop. Snatching it from the chest of drawers I didn't hesitate before violently clicking to accept the call. Immediately a jumble of incomprehensible phrases blurbled out in an hurried disorderly fashion. I managed to pick out a few that were repeated multiple times in the midst of this chaos.

"So sorry!"  
"Laptop"  
"Number"  
"Don't hate me!"

"Whoa there Philly! Slow down I can't understand what you're saying." I chuckled after about ten seconds of the intelligible rambling.

In a slightly more comprehensible manner I heard an explanation tumble forth.

"Dan I'm so sorry my laptop broke and I hadn't saved your mobile number 'cause it was still on my laptop but it took a week to fix and I didn't know what to do and I had no way of contacting you so please don't hate me or think I'm a bad person because it was an accident and I understand if you never want to talk to me again and-"

I could feel a humongous grin sliding onto my face as I couldn't contain the joy that spread within me. All my tension and a huge proportion of my self hatred was melting away and slipping into the floorboards beneath me. It wasn't me. I didn't repel him. I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't alone.

Recovering this connection somehow brought us even further together. We spoke every day, each and every time laughing and smiling with anticipation of what was to come. Every day we spend hours chatting and learning more and more about each other. It was one of the best times of my life.

You told me your awkward memories, like that time you asked a girl to teach you how to kiss, your failed dating experiences and your fond memories from university. You told me how you mustered up the courage to get into YouTube. You told me how it felt to receive your first positive review. You even trusted me enough to tell me about potential upcoming projects and videos, without even considering that I had the power leak them to his fans. That kind of trust made me eager to grasp every word you said to me.

So I did. I listened through all of it. Because you captivate me with your imagination and your passion. The way you laugh and how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you try and contain your giggles at a situation. I know it’s cheesy to say, and so regularly overused an expression, but I really believe your smile lights up the room. I can’t help but smile with you. And you smile back at me, even with my far-too-tanned skin and my facial deformations (otherwise known as my dimple). And I feel truly happy for the first time is years.

Because with you I never have to put on a fake smile or be someone that I’m not. You accept me for who I am and I don’t have to pretend anymore. No one has ever done what you do for me, and for that I will be forever grateful.

I still feel the hateful, chilling warmth creep up on me sometimes when I’m unsuspecting. I don’t think anything will ever change that. But you make it better somehow. Just your presence in my life has made me a million times happier.

A couple of days later you suddenly piped up. "Hey Dan?"

"Yeah?" I replied curiously.

"Remember that tweet you sent me, asking for editing tips?" You had a peculiar expression on his face, as though you were trying to fit pieces of a tricky puzzle together. Oh God, were you bringing this up? The past was in the past, there was really no need to embarrass me.

"Mmmhmmm" I responded intelligently, wondering where this was going.

"Why did you?" You crooked your neck slightly, tilting your head to the right. As if he had any right to be more adorable.

'Want editing tips?" I clarified.

"Yeah."

I slowly sat up, contemplating this for a moment.  
"I guess I've always considered making my own videos. Don't know how good-"

You sat up excitedly. "Videos for YouTube?" you asked in clarification. I still remember the way your eyes had lit up, as though you had uncovered a hidden treasure.

"Well, yeah..." I answered hesitantly.

The delight that overcame your face in that moment was imprinted into my retinas. I wanted to permanently stare at that expression for as long as I lived. God I was turning into a soppy romance-novel schoolgirl.

A month later I had my camera stood precariously on a disorderly stack of books and DVDs. It looked as on the verge of a breakdown as I felt. Even so, I carefully manoeuvred my hand to be able to press record. Hesitating for one moment longer, I decided it was now or never. You had better appreciate this. I heard the sharp click sound and blinked.

I took one last shaky breath in; reminded myself that if I completely screwed up, I could start over. I tentatively shuffle to my left until I move into shot.

“Hi.” I hear myself say awkwardly to the camera, gesticulating weirdly with my left hand in a sort of salute.

“My name’s Dan.” _  
_

_You found me._

19th October 2009

I sat fidgeting impatiently in my less than comfortable seat. My arms wrapped reassuringly around my coat. My fingers tapped out an incessant rhythm against my forearm. My unsteady deep breaths somehow overpowered the bustling atmosphere of the carriage. Every movement of the carriage put me further and further within reach of my goal. I was almost there.

1 minute before arrival.

Passengers didn't give me any notice and simply ignored me, engrossed in their activities. Completely unaware of the importance of this day. My breathing began to increase of its own accord again. I felt my body lightly rock back and forth. Was it okay to be this nervous.?

What if-? I stopped myself. Everything was going to be perfect. You were perfect. Nothing about his day could possibly be imperfect.

I breathed into my trembling fingers, trying to stop the shivering. Somehow it was doing no good whatsoever and my shaking was remaining despite my efforts.

I caught sight of a station in the distance, but the time I had stood up to prepare myself the train was pulling into the station. I awkwardly hovered at the back of everyone, not wanting to draw attention. As the train doors opened I anxiously crept out, unsure what to do or whether you would even be there. I stepped onto the platform and once the crowd parted I locked my eyes on gorgeous blue. You really could go swimming in those eyes.

Home.

 


End file.
